


The Last of Us

by Fiathe



Category: B.A.P, K-pop, Secret (Band)
Genre: Angst, Humanity's Last Stand, M/M, Multi, Tragedy, Zombie Apocalypse, hard choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiathe/pseuds/Fiathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where 90% of humanity has been infected by a strange disease that turns them into mindless monsters, one man finds a boy who is possibly be the cure for everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last of Us

**Author's Note:**

> A mash-up of the PS3 game 'The Last of Us' and a manga called Apocalypse no Toride. Both are fantastic in their own right, and whilst concepts and certain story plots have been taken from both, the rest is entirely my own imagination with B.A.P as the main cast.  
> This is also my first post on AO3, so i'm still working out layout kinks etc.

#  **\- PROLOGUE -**

#  **TOGETHER WE FALL**

The sky is a darkening haze of red and grey. It’s an industrial streak of anger, perhaps at the misfortune that is about to befall two innocent children right here and right now. The burning sun stares down on them as he slips into sleep, watching with something of divine indifference as the two children run, hand in hand. They clamber over a broken stone wall, leaping and falling and rolling with the impact. They ignore the twinge of pain in their thighs and the heels of their feet and with only a cursory glance at one another, they continue running through the sprawling plain of dying vegetation. The grass is dry and brittle; it snaps and scratches as they push their way through. It’s yellow and withered – just like the rest of their dying world.

“Just a little further Junhong,” the older boy turns, the plea rolling off his tongue. He can see that his friend is tired beyond belief. Dark bruises paint the underside of his eyes; permanent lines are etched into the sides of his mouth. He knows he too looks equally as starved and hollow. They have been running non-stop for days, resting in small snatches that can’t be quantified as naps. Every corner, every shadow, every turn and every twist holds a potential danger. Anything could happen.

They can trust nothing. Nothing but for their fingers intertwined tightly.

“We just need to get to the resistance,” the older boy says encouragingly. “It can’t be much further.”

The younger boy just pants. He has no spare energy to expend on words.

The night encroaches, darkness creeping and making every shadow longer until the entire world in covered in a blanket of blackness. Stars have long since lost their meaning of hope.

“Please hyung,” the younger boy huffs, digging his heels in and dragging the older boy to a stop. “Just a short rest. Please.”

The older boy turns. “We can’t Junhong!”

But he knows the younger boy has been pushed to his limits tonight. Too many things have happened in too short of a period of time, and the older boy can see shock slowly creeping its way to the front. He sighs.

“Two minutes Junhong,” he gives in and sinks to the ground, making himself a smaller target.

Junhong flops to the floor, inhaling and exhaling heavily as he tries to rid himself of his oxygen debt. The older boy kneels, pressing one firm hand to Junhong’s silver brushed hair. It’s sweaty and in clumps, but Jongup loves the feel of Junhong’s hair no matter what.

“Hyung?” Junhong finally speaks.

Jongup leans over Junhong, staring deep into his eyes. “Yeah?”

Junhong doesn’t speak for a few seconds, content instead to drink in the sight of his best friend: the only other living human who truly cares for him and only him.

“Are we going to get out of here alive?” he whispers and it’s like the creaking open of a door, unsure and unsteady and in dire need of a bit of oiling. It’s the tiny child behind the door afraid and uncertain and knowing exactly what is wrong but too powerless to do or say a thing.

Jongup lets himself rock forwards on his heels, controlling his leg muscles perfectly so that he bends down and presses a gentle, dry kiss to Junhong’s forehead. Junhong closes his eyes and revels in the soft touch of his lips, in the brush of Jongup’s silky hair that Jongup never actually takes care of yet turns out so airbrush fine, and in the warm breath that graces his skin. Jongup smells like fire and spice and Junhong has long ago begun to associate the scent with safety.

Jongup rocks back on his heels. “We will,” he promises. “I’ll always protect you. You got that?”

Junhong smiles. “I got that.”

And it is then, with divine ill timing, that a growl rips through the air and Jongup is sent flying into hard granite. Junhong flings himself off the floor just in time to avoid a clawing hand scrabble the dusty ground where he had been lying just a moment ago. Long, yellowing fingernails are all Junhong catches a glimpse of before he stumbles backwards and gets the full image.

Haggard clothes drape the creature that can no longer be called human. It has ragged and torn skin, hanging off in pieces in some places like it was caught on an object and tugged and tugged until skin gave way in the most gruesome fashion of ripping. It has a rigid way of walking, as if the  _rigor mortis_ , which should define it as dead, lingers in this body of all contradictions.  It has eyes that glow white in the darkness, devoid of all irises, and teeth that hang loosely from rotting gum. It most definitely can no longer be called human.

Junhong swallows and turns, but in the darkness of the night, the white flare of the creature’s eyeballs linger. Panic grips his heart in an iron hold and refuses to let go.

 “Jongup!” he yells, fear overriding all logic. Where is Jongup?

Then something tackles him and Junhong is on the floor again. “No!” he screams and flails, long limbs stretching out and whacking something that feels distinctly human.

“It’s me Junhong!” Jongup says quickly, wincing as one of Junhong’s gangly arms connects with his cheek. He knows tomorrow there will be a bruise, black and blue. The kid is stronger than he realizes. “Calm down!’

“Jongup?” Junhong slows and stares at the warm arms that grip his waist. Two brown eyes blink back and Junhong knows he is safe. But then he looks up and his mouth goes dry. The creature hangs over them, arms outstretched and what could have been a comically puzzled expression on its face if it had been any other situation than this.

“RUN!” Jongup shoves at Junhong and Junhong rolls to his feet, skidding in his haste. Jongup is there again, grabbing for his hands in a slick hold and yanking them forwards. And once again they are running.

Junhong’s heart is hammering in his chest, a living, pounding cacophony. He’s scared. He’s so, so scared. That’s the closest they’ve come to one of the creatures – no,  _Infected_  she had said to call them – and he can’t get its gruesome face out of his head. White bone gleaming at the edge of the cranium, skin flapping wildly where an ear used to be, and a giant rip down one cheek. To think that that was once a living, breathing human being….

“Don’t think about it!” Jongup yells back. He has always been able to read Junhong’s mind. “Just concentrate on running.”

“H-hyung…”

“I’m here to protect you, remember!’ Jongup shouts and grips Junghong’s hand as they skirt a large boulder and hit the main road. It’s a long trail of tar, licked with white lines down its endless path. It’s also their only guide to getting back to the city, to safety, to something other than a life of running and hiding. “Just stay strong Junhong.”

The Infected that hurtles at them from out of nowhere comes as a blur of decaying grey matter. One second Junhong is staring at Jongup’s strong back, watching the lines of muscle pump beneath the black tank he’s wearing. Next thing he’s holding onto nothing.

A cry tears is way out his mouth as he turns to see Jongup on the floor, the Infected grasping him clumsily between broken fingers. It bares its teeth, rotting black and the color of maggots. One hiss and Jongup’s eyes go wide. He struggles, kicks and then Junhong is there, physically grabbing the Infected by its grimy shoulders and yanking it off his most precious friend. It’s stronger than it looks, but Junhong tosses it to the side and kneels down in front of Jongup.

“Hyung! Are you okay? Did that thing bite you?”

“I’m fine,” Jongup quickly reassures him, but Junhong’s hands are running up and down Jongup’s lean frame, searching for any sign to be worried. “I’m fine!” he brushes away Junhong’s touch, wincing at where the Infected dug fingers in too deeply. Tomorrow he’ll be a network of bruises thanks to the events of this evening. But more importantly is the present. Jongup can suffer a thousand bruises if it means they can survive the danger of now.

“We need to go! Now-“

Something cold has latched itself to his ankle. Jongup looks down just in time to see the bones beneath skin yank backwards and he is thrown to the floor, his chin slamming hard against the hard-packed earth. It sends stars to his vision and waves of blackness.

He can hear Junhong crying out and grabbing for him arms.

 _Move_ , he tells himself, but his brain is not computing.  _Kick that thing! Get away!_

He feels something hard and sharp dig deep into his leg, sinking right through the jean material and into soft human flesh. Jongup gasps at the pain – that’s all he can manage – and it’s digging deeper and deeper, penetrating through tissue and into bone. The gasp turns into a breathless screech and the pain is all he can think about. Strangely enough, it focuses him even more and Jongup musters just enough strength to twist his body and kick out with his free leg at the creature’s skull.

It’s enough to disengage the Infected’s hold on his leg and then Junhong takes over. An iron bar  _thwacks_  the Infected in the head so hard that it’s head disconnects from the body and the two parts roll away. The thing lets out a high pitch screech, writhing once or twice as if in a seizure before flopping to the floor motionless. A head and a body. A sprawled collection of bones. Jongup hopes that is the end of that.

Jongup knows that he should get up and go check that it is dead. Or as dead as the dead can get. Instead, Jongup looks up hazily through the mist of pain and sees Junhong breathing heavily. He has no idea where Junhong whipped that iron pole from, but he’s grateful of it. His eyes scan Junhong and is relieved to see him unharmed but for a long, red scrape where he must have skidded hard against the ground.

“Jun…hong…” he huffs.

Junhong drops the pole and falls to his knees next to Jongup. “Hyung!” he stammers, all cute and panicky. “Oh my god, you’re bitten, what are we going to do…we’ve got to do something…um…uh…ah…”

“Calm down Junhong,” Jongup says gently. He’s surprised at how calm he is, but he guesses looming death can do that to a person. “Listen to me. Rip the edge of my sleeve and bandage the wound.”

Junhong does as he says, but with trembling hands and eyes as wide as a spooked deer.

With the help of Junhong, Jongup gets to his feet. It isn’t easy and the minute he tests his foot’s strength and bolts of pain spike their way up his leg, he knows he isn’t going to make it any further.

Jongup has two choices: to send Junhong away to possible but uncertain safety, or to somehow take him there himself. Both are choices he does not want to make.

Junhong seems to be able to read his thoughts. “I’m not leaving you hyung,” he says firmly and slips one arm under Jongup, supporting him further. “We’re both getting to the city. Don’t you dare tell me to leave you behind.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jongup gives him a wry grin, but it’s forced and he is sweating hard. He has mere minutes to make his decision before god knows how many more creatures appear. He scans their surroundings, hoping for a hint, a clue, anything for them to use. A car would be lovely, but that’s just being too hopeful, and it’s not like either of them know how to drive.

“Hand me that iron pole,” Jongup instructs Junhong. Junhong complies and Jongup find it works as a perfect crutch. For now at least. He wraps another torn piece of his sleeve over the top so that it doesn’t poke him so much. Now he can walk without Junhong’s help. It’s slow, but it’s something.

Jongup scans their surrounds again. It’s frustrating but he needs something to drop from the sky, and he knows he shouldn’t be hoping, that hoping has never got them anywhere, but this is first time he’s ever  _begged_. Please God, please send some help. Someone. Something. Anything.

What is sent instead is a horde of the Infected.

Junhong sees them first, stumbling grey figures in the distance. He can’t count how many there are, but it’s at least thirty.

“H-hyung…” his voice trembles and he clutches at the ragged ends of Jongup’s sleeve despite knowing Jongup can’t stand properly. Jongup sways – a combination of Junhong’s weight leaning against him and the irrefutable sight he sees.

“What are we going to do?” Junhong whispers, clutching closer, and Jongup has no answer for him.

“How did they find us?” Junhong continues to talk, unable to stem the flow of one-sided conversation. “We didn’t leave any trails behind? No blood. So how?”

Their answer comes in the form of the Infected that they thought was dead. It convulses again, the sudden movement attracting their attention, and shrieks. The sound is like the grating of bones on a chalkboard. The two boys wince and the horde of Infected straighten like an army.

“Fuck…” Jongup swears and Junhong knows that they are dead. Jongup never swears.

“They can call each other?” Jongup stares incredulously, almost unable to believe just how bad their luck can be. “Since when do the Infected do this?”

But life has never been fair and Jongup know he has a promise to keep.

“Get behind me Junhong,” he orders.

Junhong looks down at his with wide, frightened eyes. “What?”

Jongup just shoves Junhong behind him. There is no time for words. He takes the iron pole in his hands, glad for something physical – something remotely weapon-like – to hold. At least he won’t go down without a fight.

“I want you to run Junhong,” he tells the younger boy. Junhong starts shaking his head.

“Listen to me!” Jongup snaps. He knows that Junhong was going to act like this. Heck, he would act like this if their positions were reversed, but it’s not and Jongup has a promise to uphold. “Listen!”

He heft the iron pole in his hand and tests his foot. It’s painful, but he can walk. Run if need be.

Basically, he can fight.

“You have to get out of here Junhong,” he says, surprisingly calm. “I can hold them off long enough for you to have a head start. With my foot like this I can’t go with you, but you need to live Junhong! I promised your brother this.”

“No,” Junhong shakes his head fiercely. “Never hyung!”

“Junhong-“

“My brother wouldn't want me to live if it meant you dying.”

Jongup knows that is probably true, but he can’t condone dragging Junhong down with him. “Look-“

“Don’t bother hyung,” Junhong says resolutely. “It’s too late anyway.”

Jongup’s brow furrows as he turns, and then they smoothen as he sees with horror the rows and rows of Infected stumbling their way through the tall grass. They’re surrounded. The Infected fan out in an uneven circle and Jongup knows it is the end.

“I’m so sorry Junhong,” is all he can say.

“Don’t be hyung,” Junhong replies and even though they are back to back, Junhong leans into Jongup and Jongup automatically threads his fingers with Junhong and once again they are hand in hand, waiting for the end.

“I promised to protect you,” Jongup continues, knowing he has to finish this no matter what. “That wasn’t a promise to just your brother. It was to you as well.”

“I know that hyung,” Junhong smiles and grips Jongup’s hand tightly once and that’s all he need to do to convey his overflowing feelings. That he knows Jongup has always protected him not just because it was a promise to his older brother who was Jongup’s long-time friend, but because a long time ago Jongup grew to love Junhong in his own way and now it’s a promise to his own heart to protect Junhong to the very end.

“I love you hyung,” Junhong says, because he feels something needs to be said and this is the moment for it. “You know that right?”

Jongup squeezes Junhong’s hand in return. “Yeah, I know that.”

“Hyung?” Junhong asks, because the silence needs filling or else the two of them will break as they watched the Infected come closer.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think dying hurts?”

It’s such an honest question that Jongup knows he cannot lie. “It probably will.” After all if his foot hurts this must, death must be worse.

He can feel Junhong tremble through their linked hands. He knows there are no words he can offer as comfort either. So when Junhong asks for one last favor, he grants it without a second thought.

“Hey, hyung?” he asks in a haltering voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Jongup is a more than a little surprised at the request. The two have been friends for nearly over two years now, but Junhong has never shown a romantic inclination towards him. They love each other, but it's always been a brotherly relationship than anything else.

“I don’t mean it that way,” Junhong hastily corrects himself, eyes watching one Infected stumble a mere four meters away from them. It stops and a long spool of drool leaks to the floor. Junhong doesn’t even know how it can drool when it’s dead, but it does and it grosses him out even more. “It’s just…I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I don’t want to die not knowing…”

Oh…

Jongup gets it now.

He’s kissed his fair share of people. Maybe not as much as a normal teen should, but at least he knows how to kiss. At least he's had the experience. And if Junhong is to die, how can Jongup refuse his last request when it is something as simple as this. 

“Sure.”

Junhong turns, eyes shining in the darkness with something akin to part-fear, part-hope. “Really?”

Jongup smiles because Junhong is just too cute, and fifty Infected coming at them for their lives can’t stop that knowledge. Jongup turns awkwardly on his injured foot and reached out with one hand to brush the back of Junhong’s neck, drawing him in closer. Junhong shivers at the touch and licks his lips nervously.

“Don’t be,” Jongup says in response to Junhong's apprehension. He then lets Junhong control the kiss, let him lean forwards, dry, hasty breaths showing just how green he is at the act. He guides Junhong to his lips with the gentlest of pressure to the back of his neck and when Junhong presses against him, all he can think of is how much he wished this wasn’t Junhong’s first kiss. Not that he doesn’t like it, but that Junhong deserves so much more. There’s a whole world open for him, and Junhong should be kissing the girl or the guy he truly loves, not the man who is supposed to be his brother and his protector and his confident all wrapped up into one. It makes a single tear trickle down Jongup’s cheek as Junhong pressed deep into the kiss and the Jongup takes over. He licks along the strip of his lip, making Junhong open up and Jongup deepens the kiss properly, rolling his neck to one side so that he can fit perfect against Junhong's mouth. One firm hand presses Junhong as close as he can get. 

The kiss doesn’t last long. There’s the throbbing in Jongup’s foot and the crunching sound of the Infected getting closer and closer and Jongup can really tell that Junhong has no idea what he was doing, so they break apart messily, wiping hands over mouths and chuckling slightly.

Junhong is the first to break the awkward silence between the two. “That was nice hyung,” is all he can say. He’s almost glad it is night time because otherwise he knows his face would be bright red. He can feel the heat of the flush. Jongup can too, but he doesn’t say anything because it is Junhong’s first kiss. 

Jongup simply turns so that once again they are back to back. He grips the iron pole in his hand and replies, “I’m sorry I had to be your first.”

“Don’t be,” Junhong rushes to say. “I’m kinda glad…it was you…”

That surprises Jongup.

“It’s because…there’s no one else in the world that I would trust more than you.”

Jongup laughs at that. Not because it’s funny, but because he’s never been told that before and he doesn’t know how else to react to it.

“Hey Junhong,” he says because this needs saying. “Just for the record, I’m glad my last kiss was with you.” That has Junhong laughing awkwardly now.

“And Junhong,” Jongup says, because this needs saying as well. “For the record, I’m also glad that you were the last person I saw before I die.”  

Junhong can’t laugh at that. Because it solidifies the certainty that they are going to die, and he can’t exactly refute that. But it was nice to forget about it for those few seconds they had in the kiss. But reality is staring them in the face and it comes in the form of a horde of Infected with their glowing white eyes and groaning sounds.

Jongup hands Junhong the iron pole. “So that we go down fighting,” he explains. Junhong takes it. He knows Jongup can hold his own in a fist fight.

“For the record hyung,” Junhong smiles as he takes the pole, his taking of it a symbol of the trust between the two. “I’m glad you were the last person I was with too.”

Jongup cracks a grin and for the last time the two thread their fingers together as they wait and watch for death to come.

 


End file.
